


Complicated

by bloodonthesnowdrops



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Friendship, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:54:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22682041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodonthesnowdrops/pseuds/bloodonthesnowdrops
Summary: He spent some time in complete silence, eventually feeling numb and empty as he looked out the window. His eyes were slightly red but shining with the beautiful shade of hazel in the light of the moon. Coping with loss was the worst part. Now he had the whole life ahead of him to learn how to do that.“Didn’t expect to see you here,” he heard the husky voice with the painfully familiar British accent a couple of feet away from him.Instantly surfacing from his thoughts, El turned his head and to his surprise found Seb standing right in front of him with a sad smile on his face.“I- I couldn’t sleep,” Eliot muttered not in his own voice.“Me neither."
Relationships: Eliot Waugh/Sebastian, Eliot Waugh/The Dark King, Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh, Rupert Chatwin/Eliot Waugh
Comments: 4
Kudos: 36





	Complicated

Sleep was his worst enemy nowadays. Not the Beast, not even a literal God possessing his body hurt him the way his own thoughts did. He was desperate. He was restless. He couldn’t lay down, couldn’t close his damn eyes without being consumed by his own memories. They were poison, destroying and frying his brain like nothing else ever did.

If he could, he’d literally drown himself in alcohol and his own sorrow.

Eliot has never allowed himself to mourn Q. He was afraid of losing himself in the prosses. He was _terrified_ of facing reality just as always. He wouldn’t be able to stop. He had to stay strong, at least for the sake of everyone around him.

One time he admitted his biggest weakness. In his mind, but still. He was scared to death of the feelings he didn’t understand. But when Eliot finally realized that, of course, that bitchy faith lady took his love away from him. It took Q, like it was some sick joke. Like he deserved it. Like they both did.

Did they, though?

Was this fair? _No, it fucking wasn’t._

Nothing ever was. Life was complicated, cruel, painful and incredibly unfair. He should’ve known. It stabbed him in the back so many times, he should’ve learned by now, but every wound was fresh and raw, bleeding and stinging.

He didn’t even get to see him one last time. There was no fucking body. Nothing. Just memories of him, beautiful and funny ones and those he wished he’d never had.

Sometimes he thought it wasn’t fucking funny anymore.

This time, it was one of those nights. Tossing and turning in his bed, completely messing the bedsheets, he growled and sat up closing his eyes. Was there a spell that could stop those damn nightmares? If there was, he certainly had to look this one up.

There was only one person in this castle that could understand his struggle and actually help. The king - no, Seb – was a dark horse, and Margo didn’t trust him one bit but El didn’t really have the reason not to. He was powerful and, yeah, maybe a little bit despotic but that was just a part of his character. Eliot didn’t know what this “Dark King” thing was about, however, he just couldn’t call Seb evil.

And maybe he was just too damaged to see the real picture desperately trying to find comfort in someone that went through the same thing.

Who the hell could know for sure if this man had bad intentions?

He shook his head and inhaled.

No matter who he was and _what he was_ , El certainly found him interesting. And Margo didn’t know anything about his eyes and- his smile and-

Yeah, not the best time to think about supervillains and evil despots. He should know a thing or two about those, as _he was one_ for some short period of time.

The night was young. It was lovely outside at this time when the moon took her reigns. The light poured through every window of the castle, and El could swear he didn’t remember the last time he bothered to notice the beauty of a Fillorian night. He was a king once but never appreciated it the way he should’ve.

So this is how it feels, huh? Solitude and sorrow. Apparently, people start noticing and valuing simple things when they lose something significant in their lives.

El walked through the hallways of the castle silently, carefully, like a ghost. Like those even existed. He couldn’t sleep anyway, so what was the point of staying in bed? He needed some fresh air and some alone time. His body felt numb but his mind played dirty tricks on him over and over again.

One picture after another. It was madness, torture, beautiful pain.

Did that make any sense? He smiled weakly.

_“Peaches and plums, motherfucker.”_

It was all him. Quentin. Every thought ever since Q was gone was about him. And Eliot hated his own mind for not letting himself grieve properly. And yet kept running away from it.

He was a mess.

_“We’ve loved each other for a really, really long time."_

It was so complicated – what they had. No one would understand. It was something fragile, precious and yet absolutely transparent, strong, weird and unknown to others. They got to live a whole life together loving each other unconditionally in one timeline and be good friends in the other.

_“Who gets the proof of concept like that?”_

Maybe he did attach too quickly.

Maybe.

Was that a sin?

Eliot didn’t know where he went. The hallways were familiar, even too familiar but it was different at night. Eventually making a few turns, he stumbled upon a nice little couch by the big window. This place looked cozy and yet it didn’t seem like many people visited it. Especially not at this time. He slowly lowered himself on the sofa, throwing a quick look around this place and exhaled. It was quiet. Just like always. El didn’t even know what he was doing here in the first place. Change of location wasn’t really an effective way to solve his problems.

Only then the silence consumed him, and new, bright, heavy thoughts hit him in the head beating the shit out of him. It was like a hurricane. He was alone falling a victim to his growing grief.

There was no one around to save him this time.

He had to face the apocalypse.

Only then Eliot realized how much it really hurt. Like a stab in the heart, like a constant noise in his head, like a poison in his blood. A wave of realization washed over him, making the man choke and gasp in desperation. El ignored this nagging feeling for far too long, and now it all came back, twice as powerful, as it was before.

Fuck this!

He looked down and let the black messy curls fall and completely cover his face. The silk robe he was wearing didn’t save him from the cold in the hallway, it made him shiver but he didn’t notice.

He didn’t really notice anything anymore.

He spent some time in complete silence eventually feeling numb and empty as he looked out the window. His eyes were slightly red but shining with the beautiful shade of hazel in the light of the moon. Coping with loss was the worst part. Now he had the whole life ahead of him to learn how to do that.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” he heard the husky voice with the painfully familiar British accent a few feet away from him.

Instantly surfacing from his thoughts, El turned his head and to his surprise found Seb standing right in front of him with a sad smile on his face. This smile- it was somewhat cunning but calming and kind. _Confusing._ He didn’t understand this man, what were his intentions, what was his deal. Although, it didn’t matter now.

He was wearing a simple white shirt, untied at the front, and brown pants. His hair was tousled making Sebastian look sleepy and not royal at all. It made him look human. Not some kind of an unapproachable cruel nobleman. El hesitated, not knowing what to say back.

“I- I couldn’t sleep,” Eliot muttered in a voice not his own.

“Me neither,” the king inhaled and came closer pointing at the couch. “May I?”

“Umm, yeah, sure.”

_The fuck-_

The damn British accent.

Faltering, Eliot moved to the side allowing Seb to lower down next to him. His piercing blue eyes were even brighter in this lighting. He was a pretty picture, an exquisite painting made by a skillful artist, and maybe that’s why it was so hard for Eliot to tear his eyes off the king. The whole situation was even more intimate than the one in the forest. Well, it was certainly interesting. However, Eliot wasn’t ready for anyone to see his vulnerable side. Especially not the supposed enemy of his.

He slightly turned his head and let the curls cover his face, so the king wouldn’t see his eyes.

“You’ve found my secret spot,” Seb smiled, his dimples standing out.

“Sorry. I- I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s fine. Truly,” he licked his lips. “I’m actually glad you did.”

They went silent after that. And that last sentence sounded- well, provocative, to say the least. Eliot cautiously glanced at him holding his breath and, for some reason, just couldn’t look away.

“I usually come here to think. It’s- peaceful in here,” Sebastian suddenly turned his head and looked straight into El’s eyes. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” he nodded.

Fine my ass. 

Seb chuckled and then weakly smiled at him with sadness and compassion on his face. Eliot didn’t flinch, didn’t move, he just looked, torpid and indifferent, with deep devastation in his big pretty eyes.

“No, you're not. I’m not stupid, Eliot. You’re hurting. And it’s okay to admit it,” he bent his head. “No one is going to judge you here. Especially not me.”

El looked down surrendering. How the hell could this man see right through him and yet don’t scare him off with his bluntness? It was weird. Eliot didn’t understand, what was going on. The only thing he knew for sure is that he somehow trusted Seb.

Was it his charm or secret methods of gaining trust? - He didn’t know.

“I'm not afraid of judgment. It's just- It's just hard,” he exhaled looking away and grimaced.

“I know.”

He did. _He really did_ , and right now the king offered the comfort El needed the most. After a short pause, the king licked his lips and shyly asked, afraid of crossing the line.

“How long has it been?”

How long- _Oh, well._

“Uh... Less than a month,” he darkened letting this thought soak in. Almost a month. Eliot couldn’t believe, he spent the entire month not getting a single night of good sleep and still was somehow sane and reasonable.

He couldn’t believe Q was gone for so long. Felt like an eternity.

“Oh. So, the wound is still fresh,” the king frowned.

“Yeah, it is.”

Eliot cleared his throat.

“Everyone keeps telling me that I should allow myself to grieve,” his chuckle was dark and bitter, and he was terrified of looking Sebastian in the eyes as he spoke of something so personal. “But its- _consuming_. I can't handle that.”

He stared into nothingness letting emotions speak. His eyes were glassy and a little bit lost.

“Yes, you can. You're so strong, Eliot. Stronger than you think,” the king smiled warmly.

Only then El managed to look at Seb. He felt some weird connection between them, even if no one could explain it. It was easier to trust when you’re vulnerable. Maybe that was it. But for some strange reason, it just felt right.

Can villains once in a while turn out to be not the way everyone expects them to be?

Q would know. Q would make the research, look through all the options and then give an example from some stupid kids’ book he was so fascinated with. But no matter how silly his actions were, he had always been one of the smartest people Eliot knew.

“I don't know what to do without him. He always seemed to have an answer to any question. And now I feel-“

He hesitated and then frowned, shaking his head.

_“Lost.”_

“I know it's hard. And scary. Seems like there's no way out,” Sebastian put a hand on Eliot’s shoulder as the sign of support and surprisingly El didn’t mind. “But it's going to get better, trust me.”

His eyes pierced right through his soul, and it was hypnotic. Electric. The way he smiled, talked – his whole persona was bewildering, and Eliot had no choice but to trust his kind words.

“If you don't mind me asking, how did he die?”

This was the hardest part. The part he refused to acknowledge, the part that was too painful to remember. It didn’t make sense to him at all, and Eliot desperately tried to suppress this memory.

He still remembered the exact moment he opened his eyes at the Physical Kids’ cottage for the first time since he’s been possessed by that demon. He remembered everyone gathered up next to him looking sad and exhausted, shattered. He remembered Margo sitting beside him and giving him that devastating and somewhat sympathetic look he’s been so afraid of. Like the world was about to end. _Like it has already ended._ He remembered her holding his hand as El looked around counting his friends and not finding Q among them. That moment was the moment his heart was crushed into pieces. It felt as if someone took the part of his soul leaving him numb and empty, hurting and burning with disbelief.

He couldn’t believe it for days. He was _desperately_ waiting for Q to come home, to hug him, to say something stupid and completely out of place. _Anything._ At least one single word.

Eliot got lost in that moment. He didn’t feel like himself anymore as Q took everything beautiful and worthy in Eliot to his grave. It never made any sense: why did he do it? Why he couldn’t wait and come up with another option that wouldn’t kill him on the spot?

Stupid Quentin. An absolute fucking idiot.

Eliot took a deep breath. His expression was stone cold.

“He sacrificed himself. For me, for everyone. I always knew he would eventually do something that stupid. He always got into trouble. But now-” he gulped, his eyes still empty and anxious as if talking about this was the scariest thing he ever had to go through. “And the shittiest part- is that I didn't even get to say goodbye. _He died for me,_ and I wasn't even there.”

This thought would probably hunt him for the rest of his life.

“I’m sorry,” the king frowned.

The silence was killing Eliot. It was toxic and unnatural, burning and frozen at the same time.

“Life is a bitch sometimes,” Seb suddenly blurted.

Well, that was unexpected.

Eliot snorted and grinned, surprised with Seb’s words that somehow lightened up the mood a bit.

“Yeah, it sure is,” he smiled shyly and looked Sebastian in the eyes. “I'm- I'm sorry for putting you through this. You have enough on your plate already, and I sound ridiculous.”

Eliot shook his head frowning but Sebastian’s warm blue eyes and soothing voice reassured him he did nothing wrong: “No, you don't. I understand and I'm glad you shared. Sometimes we just need to get this all out to finally breathe."

The king smiled and nodded. How the hell did this man always know the right thing to say?

“I know how important it is to have someone by your side, who would actually listen.”

“Thank you, Seb, really.”

After a short moment of healing silence, the king quietly said: “I feel like we've met for a reason. To help each other,” his voice was velvet and mesmerizing. The moment was intimate, and probably every word said today would stay only between them. He wasn’t sure what would happen next and what will it lead to eventually. El just knew that this night helped him cope. And it was all that mattered.

“I knew I saw something in you from the beginning. You are not only a great magician, Eliot. You have a good heart. Not many people do,” he grinned looking into his eyes, hypnotizing and exploring.

After a moment, Eliot gathered his courage, inhaled and with a sad little smile said: “You know, Seb, I'm really glad you're here.”

The king’s pretty blue eyes sparkled in this darkness as he nodded.

“Me too. I'm really looking forward to getting to know you better.”


End file.
